Three ways to develop a taste (or at least a true appreciation) for any artform

Last night, my daughter Chloe and I were at Cleveland's Severance Hall to hear the world-renowned Cleveland Orchestra perform Camille Saint-Saens' Piano Concerto No. 2 (featuring rock star pianist Lang Lang) and Hector Berlioz's "Symphonie Fantastique."

Or at least I assume we were. I'm writing this in early April, and that's what's on the calendar for May 2. I have a partial season subscription to the Cleveland Orchestra. I use it to nurture my love of classical music and to spend time with my daughters Elissa and Chloe, who accompany me to these concerts.

I did not grow up a fan of this style of music, you understand. It's something I developed beginning in my early 40s and that continues to grow today through constant listening and reading articles about these works written by people who know what they're talking about.

I don't really know what I'm talking about when it comes to classical music, but I do, as they say, know enough to be dangerous. I'm constantly buying CDs off of Amazon and eBay to hear recordings of certain pieces you just can't get on a streaming service like Spotify or Apple Music.

I really can't enough of it.

Like I said, though, I was intentional in developing this artistic interest. I wanted to better understand and appreciate it starting around 2011, and I'm pleased with the progress I've made these past 13 years.

I have so much more to listen to and understand, though, which is the part I love. There's never a shortage of new stuff to discover.

If you have a similar potential interest in something artistic – whether it's music, visual art, dance, poetry, or whatever – you may benefit from doing three things that helped me get started as a classical music fan:

(1) Begin with the stuff you know you like
In my case with classical music, this was Tchaikovsky (unapologetically emotional, melodic, accessible) and Beethoven (familiar, powerful). Listening to those two well-known composers early got me acquainted with common forms like symphonies, chamber music and piano concertos. It also taught me to listen for and identify themes and recurring passages and how cleverly they can be used in a piece. Most important, though, starting with music I already somewhat knew kept me coming back and allowed me to develop a real thirst for more.

(2) Get a book or check a website for beginners
Every artform has a set of books or online articles for those who want to learn more about it. In my case with classical music, I own four books that were indispensable in helping me understand what I was hearing and directing me toward the most important works. In case you're interested, those are:

• The NPR Curious Listener's Guide to Classical Music
• The NPR Guide to Building a Classical CD Collection
• The New York Times Essential Library of Classical Music
• The International Guide to Building a Classical Music Library

(3) Go and see it live when you can
If you want to learn more about painting or sculpture, you have to get to an art museum to see the medium up close and personal. If dance is your thing, find a live ballet performance. In the case of classical music, you have to hear a good orchestra play in person. You just have to. There's nothing else like it. I'm spoiled having a world-class ensemble in my backyard, but there are plenty of highly skilled orchestras in every state/province and country. Get thee to a concert hall (or museum, or live poetry reading, or dance theatre...) and your understanding of your chosen artform, much like the Grinch's heart, will grow three sizes that day.

In an era when CDs have already died a painful death, I keep adding to my collection

About 10 years ago, I started getting into classical music. Like, really getting into classical music. To the point that I listen to something from the classical repertoire every day almost without fail.

If you don't grow up with it and/or don't play an orchestral instrument, classical is a genre that takes some getting used to. You don't just wake up one day with a full appreciation for its beauty, emotional depth, and technical genius.

I still don't fully have this appreciation myself, though my knowledge of the music has grown by leaps and bounds over a decade of constant listening.

I'm a Cleveland Orchestra subscriber and a frequent listener of our local classical station (the wonderful WCLV 104.9 FM), but most of my engagement has come through the music I have stored on my phone.

Virtually all of it is taken from CDs I've bought over the years. "So then," you might say, "can't you just as easily access all of these symphonies, concertos, and sonatas via Spotify or Apple Music? Why keep buying CDs from which you're just going to rip the music anyway?"

The answer is that, yes, you can access any given classical piece on a streaming service, but interpretation of these works varies widely. You would be shocked to hear how different something as familiar as Beethoven's 5th Symphony sounds from one orchestra to the next, depending on the conductor's choice of tempo, dynamics, phrasing, etc.

Accordingly, there are particular recordings of popular classical works that are considered to be "the best," and a great many of them are only available on older CDs and not on any streaming service.

I don't yet know enough to figure out what's "best," what's "good," and what's just plain "mediocre." So I rely on a book I purchased several years ago titled "The NPR Guide to Building a Classical CD Collection" by Ted Libbey.

The book was first published during the heart of the CD era (1994), and it provides a list of what Libbey refers to as "the 350 essential works."

My goal is to obtain all 350 of these CDs. Right now I have a little more than 200 of them. I order them one at a time, usually from Amazon. When the disc arrives, I use iTunes to export it into my music library. Then the CD itself gets put away in a plastic storage bin in our basement.

At this rate, I have at least five more years before I get my hands on the full 350 discs, particularly as some of Libbey's recommended recordings are hard to find or wildly expensive. But I do plan to get there.

Still, if you're interested in getting a huge head start on building your own classical library and can fit a couple of large storage bins full of CDs into your house, boy do I have a deal for you...

I actually have hobbies now and that's an accomplishment

I have long lamented my inability to relax. It's not that I feel constantly stressed out (that actually happens relatively infrequently). It's just that I always have this drive to accomplish something, to check something off the to-do list, to make the most of my time.

You could argue very convincingly that relaxing is making the most of your time, and that as humans we need our relaxation. I just hate to have chores/tasks hanging over my head, so I'm always running to get stuff done.

Or at least that's how it was for many years. I'm still like that to some degree, just not as hardcore as I used to be. Ever since I finished my master's degree last summer, I've made an effort to engage in true leisure time activities.

And I have a few now. Like playing my saxophone, for example.

I bought a gorgeous new tenor sax recently (I'll blog about it sometime soon), and I'm enjoying regular playing and practicing time. Over the holiday break I read a book that is apparently much revered in saxophone circles called "Developing a Personal Saxophone Sound." It was a revelation to me.

The book goes into very technical detail on how to create the sort of tone that professional players make. I never understood how they did it until now, and it slowly dawned on me that in 41 years of playing the instrument, I learned only how to blow into the instrument and finger notes.

Only now am I learning to make music and really control the horn. It's a long process, but I'm enjoying it.

I'm also reading other nonfiction. I made it through Hew Strachan's 350-page "The First World War" over the break and am currently enjoying "The War Poems of Wilfred Owen," which my daughter Elissa and her boyfriend Mark gave me for Christmas.

I also walk quite a bit, as I've mentioned, and am continuing my immersion into the core classical music repertoire.

None of these activities gets the dishes washed, the bathroom cleaned, or the laundry done, and that's a good thing. They feed the soul, which is what we all need.

I will not, however, collect stamps. Tried that back in the early 80s and it's not for me. But classical music CDs? I have a couple hundred of those, to the point that the CD rack in the basement is ready to tip over.

I couldn't be happier about it.

I'm never going to make real money blogging, but I could make 100 bucks if you do one thing that won't benefit you in the least

This is an insanely selfish blog post and I'm a bad person for writing it.

But I want my $100.

If you've been a reader of this space over the few years, you may have noticed that Blogger.com places ads here and there around the blog. I get money for displaying those ads. Pennies, mind you, just pennies.

But those pennies add up.

The more people that visit the blog, the more money I get. And what's more, the more people that actually click on those ads, the more money I get.

Do you see where I'm going here?

My plan is this: How about you go off and click on one or two of those ads? I don't care if you stay on whatever website they take you to. Just click on them. Then go about your day as usual. Don't even give me or my bank account a second thought.

What will happen, though, is that my Google Ads account balance will grow. Again, by pennies, but it will grow.

Right now that balance is about $95. It represents several years' worth of on-and-off blogging and thousands of subsequent eyeballs that have viewed and/or clicked on ads in my blog.

Google Ads will not issue payment until a blogger reaches $100.

We're so close, people, so close. Well, I'm so close. As I've freely admitted, there's absolutely nothing in this deal for you, other than the satisfaction of knowing that, with just a few mouse clicks (or even a few dozen, if you're so inclined), you've added to my collection of classical CDs.

Because that's what I'm going to do with the money, you understand. I'm going to go on a classical CD shopping spree on Amazon.com. It's exactly the sort of stupid, nerdy thing you would expect me to do, and I don't plan to let you down.

The CDs I like can be had for less than $10 apiece. Far less than $10, in some cases, even when you include shipping. I'll have more CDs to listen to on my drive to and from work, thus making me happier and more relaxed, and therefore more healthy.

So, by extension, if you choose not to click on any of the ads, it's entirely accurate to say you're killing me.

Shame on you. Get out there and click on those ads and clear your conscience immediately. You're welcome.

10 ways I'm different now than I was 20 years ago

(1) I love coffee and wine. I used to hate coffee and wine. Especially wine. Now I regularly consume both. There is no logical explanation for this.

(2) I lost hair on top of my head. Most days I forget this is the case, because I don't regularly look at the top of my own head. Then I'll see a picture of myself from the back and realize, "Oh yeah. That."

(3) I'm more careful about using the brakes on my car so they last longer. A few $600+ brake jobs will do that to you.

(4) I no longer sincerely believe the Cleveland Browns or Cleveland Indians will win a championship during my lifetime. I used to hold on to this belief because I couldn't stand the alternative. Now I'm more honest with myself.

(5) I don't talk as fast. Or at least I don't think I do. I used to talk fast all the time. Maybe my brain is slowing down. Or maybe I'm just generally a lot calmer.

(6) I listen to a lot of classical music. Much like coffee and wine, I was never a fan until a few years ago. Who knows why?

(7) I not only don't need to have a lot of money, I don't WANT a lot of money. I've seen the problems money causes. No thank you. (Nor am I looking to be poor, either, mind you. Just comfortable. How about that?)

(8) Twenty years ago my worldview was limited to North America, as I had only visited various parts of the U.S. and Eastern Canada at that point (well, I guess I also spent a few hours in Mexico when I was 8). Since then I have visited Germany, France, the UK and China. It's amazing what spending time in foreign countries will do to your perspective.

(9) I don't wear glasses anymore. Nor do I wear contacts. God bless you, Guy Who Invented LASIK Surgery.

(10) The number of children in my house has exploded by 400%. This is more of a wonderful thing than I can even begin to describe to you.

I'm digging classical music and you're probably not

Over the last year or so, I've gotten heavily into classical music. To the point that it's almost the only music I listen to anymore.

This, you'll readily agree, puts me into a distinct minority. Classical music fans comprise a very small percentage of the general public, which is why your local classical music station has − at any given moment − a total of 17 listeners.

But that's part of the attraction of classical musical to some people, isn't it? The exclusivity. The elitism. The feeling that, "While you barbarians are out downloading Miley Cyrus songs, I'm soaking in the best that Western Civilization has to offer."

I would love to take that same snobbish attitude, but I'm not nearly sophisticated enough. I still cheer loudly when two guys start punching each other in the face at a hockey game. And I regularly scratch myself in ways that are, generally speaking, unacceptable in polite company.

Yet I love me some classical music. Or at least I love the stuff I've been able to absorb so far. I'm very much into the long symphonic works: Beethoven, Tchaikovsky, Mendelssohn. Those are my Big Three these days.

But I still have a long way to go to fully appreciate the genre. Opera and I don't really get along much (yet). And the modern composers utterly baffle me (I have Berg's Violin Concerto on CD, and I'm not kidding when I tell you it literally frightens me. Either that man was crazy or I'm just a big wuss. Or both.)

Because that's the thing about classical music that turns a lot of people off, and I get it: It takes effort to understand it. This isn't a three-minute pop song with a catchy, repetitive hook that you can listen to once and memorize. It's dense stuff packed with emotion, with ideas, and with substance. You can listen to it again and again and still not catch everything the composer is trying to convey.

I think that's why I like it. One of my favorite pieces is Tchaikovsky's Symphony #6, also known as the "Pathétique." It's 46 minutes of music that will turn you inside out as it pulls you through the emotional wringer. Nine days after the work premiered in 1893, Tchaikovsky committed suicide. Whatever anguish he was feeling as he wrote the 6th symphony is apparent in the music.

Every time I listen to the Pathétique, it's like I'm hearing something brand new. It's so layered, so full of different elements, that I'm not sure I'll ever grasp the whole thing.

Do you know how I know I've grown up? And that I'm alive? Because I almost cry when I listen to the Pathétique. Really. I tear up in the middle of the first movement every time I hear it. And the fourth movement? The one described as "adagio lamentoso," or "played slowly in a mournful, grieving manner?" Well, if Tchaikovsky didn't know the end of his life was near when he wrote that movement, and if he wasn't trying to convey that feeling to the listener, then it's the biggest coincidence in the history of art.

I love when music (or anything else, for that matter) makes me feel that way. I love that it resonates with me. And I want other people to have the same experience. But there's a cultural bias against classical music that leaves most folks unable to commit the time and effort needed to "get" it. And that's a shame, because you have to believe me when I tell you you're missing something uplifting and even life-changing.

Not that I still don't like a good hockey fight every now and again. It's just that the next time I watch one, I'll be hearing a Wagner soundtrack in my head as one guy breaks another guy's nose. Beautiful.